


Clean

by ErinWrites417



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Arrow S7 speculation, Domesticity, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff with lots of making out and heavy petting and shaving beards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 10:13:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14714130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErinWrites417/pseuds/ErinWrites417
Summary: When Oliver finally returns home from prison, his only goal is to spend some quality time with his wife and son. But Felicity is just a smidge unhappy about the state of his facial hair. So, she takes matters into her own hands.AKA: A big tub of fluff after a rough finale.





	Clean

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written before the finale aired and assumes Oliver didn't keep his impending arrest a secret from Felicity. I don't know that Oliver and Felicity will have it this easy right off the bat in the actual show, but a girl can dream.

       

         Felicity wonders if this is what it feels like to be in shock. Only it's not bad, "I just had a life threatening experience" shock. (She's had plenty of life threatening experiences, not a single one shock inducing). Instead, it's the kind of shock that comes with news so good your brain and body don’t know which way is up. Her equilibrium feels off kilter.

            And it’s all because her husband and stepson are eating ice cream together. The most innocuous thing they could ever do and it’s making her feel dizzy. They’re in the same room, no strings attached, no evil organization out to destroy them; just a quiet evening in.

            But it feels anything but quiet in Felicity’s head because Oliver is  _home_. For good. She watches the two figures on the couch, enraptured.

            Oliver and William sit side by side, eating heaping bowls of chocolate ice cream and talking about all the baseball Oliver missed. William regales him with stats and play-by-plays from the Rockets post-season run. Oliver smiles and asks prodding questions and allows William to dominate the conversation.

            Oliver’s face can’t seem to stop beaming as he listens to William talk and Felicity knows he’s cataloguing every part of their conversation, making sure to remember every moment. Just like she’s taking mental snapshots of every laugh, every excited wave of Will’s hands, the way Oliver looks uncomfortable in street clothes, and even the way he strokes his hand over his beard.

            Good Lord,  _that_  has to go. As. Soon. As. Possible.

            Even William seems to think Oliver’s facial hair is fascinatingly horrible.

            “Your beard actually looks a lot like the ones the team was growing all season. You’d fit right in, dad,” William quips, shoveling a bite of ice cream into his mouth.

            “Well, it’s not sticking around much longer. Too scratchy,” he says, wrinkling his nose slightly.

            “Yes, good. Shave that off.” Felicity interjects, leaning against the kitchen table, her gaze lingering on Oliver who smiles gently at her. He holds his half-eaten bowl of ice cream out to her.

            “Finish this off for me?” Oliver asks with a smirk, knowing exactly how she’ll answer. She rolls her eyes but pushes off the table and takes the bowl from his hand, fingers brushing over his wrist. She’s unable to stop herself from threading her free hand through his hair, her nails scratching along his scalp.

            “I mean, it’s no mint chocolate chip, but it’ll do." He hums in agreement, eyes closing as her fingers slide down to caress his jaw.

            William groans as he watches them. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning,” he says, standing and taking his dirty bowl to the sink.

            “I’ll wash it when I finish mine, you can leave it there,” Felicity calls after him. She takes a hold of her spoon and takes a big bite of ice cream, eyes locking with Oliver’s. His pupils dilate as he watches her pull the spoon out of her mouth, clearly thinking about a different kind of dessert. Felicity almost chokes on the ice cream melting in her mouth. Oliver grins, that stupid beard getting in the way of his dimples. Yep, she's going to do something about that. Right now.

            William walks back over and breaks the moment. He leans down to envelop his father in a big hug and Oliver holds him tight for several long seconds.

            “I’m so happy you’re back. We missed you. So much, Dad.” Oliver’s eyes turn glassy as he holds William just a little closer, then lets him go. William straightens and claps a hand on Oliver’s shoulder. As Will turns to walk away, he plants a quick kiss on Felicity’s cheek and Felicity presses her palm to the side of his face and pats his cheek softly, her lips quirking into a smile.

            Oliver’s heart stutters when he realizes William is taller than Felicity now. He’d been close to overtaking Felicity when Oliver had been incarcerated, but William is shooting up, getting taller every day. Seeing William bend down to kiss Felicity’s cheek reminded him of how much he had really missed. Not just William’s height difference, but how the two of them had come to rely on one another while he was gone.

            He isn’t about to miss anything else, ever again.

            “’Night, Felicity”

            “Goodnight, Will.” Felicity says with a loving smile. Will’s door clicks shut and Oliver is finally alone with his wife.

            Before she can turn back from watching Will’s door shut, she feels Oliver right behind her, his big hands landing on her hips and sliding around her waist.

            Felicity sets the ice cream bowl down so fast, the spoon clatters out onto the end table. He pulls her to his chest and hums with satisfaction when she crosses her arms over his, hands clasping his forearms. She leans into him, letting him hold her. He plants a kiss on the nape of her neck, his beard tickling her skin. She turns in his arms and raises her hands to his cheeks.

            “I know that thing has been with you for six months, but if we’re going to do what I know we’re going to do, it has to go.” Felicity teases, scratching her fingers through the unruly hair obscuring his magnificent jaw line.

            “Right now?” Oliver asks, eyebrows rising. Felicity nods.

            “I mean, I really don’t  _want_  to wait to sex that smirk of your face until tomorrow, but-“ Oliver pulls away abruptly, taking her hand and pulling her toward the bathroom. He pulls open the top drawer of the vanity, rifling through its contents, hunting for a razor of any kind.

            Felicity laughs, leaning past him to open the bottom drawer of the vanity. Oliver stills when he sees all of his things stacked neatly in the drawer, organized with precision and care.

            “We had it ready. You know, just in case.” Felicity says sheepishly, a blush coloring her cheeks. Oliver can’t help but kiss her softly, once then again. He reaches for his electric shaver, the one that keeps his stubble “perfect,” as Felicity constantly reminded him during their summer traveling together. (She also may have said it was the one thing he should never live without at one point. He had laughed and told her  _she_  was the one thing he didn’t want to live without and then they didn’t talk for hours as his stubble and her body stayed in very close contact.)

            He hands the razor to her and sits on the toilet, looking up at her. She reaches into the drawer to grab the extension that keeps his stubble at optimal length and then steps between his legs. His hands settle on her hips, thumbs stroking at the waistband of her jeans. The razor buzzes to life.

            As she starts, making the first pass over his cheek, Oliver whispers, “You know, the floor is going to be a mess after this.”

            “I could  _not_  care less.” Felicity makes another pass along his jaw, “I have priorities. And seeing your jaw line is one of them.”

            “Oh, but you will care,” Oliver replies and gives her hips a light squeeze.

            “Well, then here, hold this,” Felicity says as she picks up the little garbage can tucked between the toilet and the vanity and places it in his lap, poised to catch the remnants of his beard.

            Bit by bit, she shears off Oliver’s beard, the physical proof of his long incarceration falling away. She leaves him with a mustache for a brief moment and he laughs, leaning over to look in the mirror.

            “This is the  _only_  time you get to have this. Because that…is disgusting.”

            “I don’t know, Felicity. I think I look pretty dapper.”

            Felicity rolls her eyes and grasps his face in her free hand, cupping his jaw and tilting his chin upward to finish the job. When the mustache is blessedly gone, she reaches for a washcloth and brushes his face and shoulders off leaving him looking like  _her_ Oliver. He places the trashcan on the ground and looks up at her.

            She sets the electric shaver on the counter and rests her hands on his either side of his face, her thumbs rubbing over the stubble left behind. He smiles that soft smile only she gets to see and he pulls her closer to kiss her gently. Felicity groans at the familiar burn of his stubble across her chin.  _This_ was right.

            He pulls back slightly, “Better?” he whispers against her lips. She can feel the smirk. And she’s determined to kiss it right off his face.

            She responds by pulling him back in, their kisses deep and insistent. Things quickly become more and more heated, their lips parting and then meeting in the most familiar, practiced way. Felicity groans against his lips when Oliver’s hands drop to land purposefully on her ass. Oliver stands, the angle of their kiss changing, his lips slanting over hers. Quickly he turns her and lifts her up on the counter, stepping between her legs and pressing his whole body against her. He kisses her in that dirty, sensual way that makes her  _more_  than sure he wants her and her alone. And she moulds herself to his body, wanting him as close as possible.

            Felicity leans back after several long moments, panting. Oliver tries to follow her lips, but she gently slides a hand over his mouth. In response he whispers her name, his voice exasperated and desperate, pushing his hips into hers.

            “There is a 13-year-old boy in the other room who comes into the kitchen every single night at around this time to get a bowl of cereal. This-“ she drags her hand away and kisses him quickly, “-cannot happen here. At least not  _right_  here. With the door open. It should happen, but we should move venues. Like to the soundproofed bedroom.”

            Oliver steps back quickly, pulling her with him and urges her toward their bedroom, pulling up his shirt as they go. “Then we should hurry. I’m not waiting for him to find us.”

            Felicity laughs as he ushers her through the bedroom door. He hurls his shirt to the corner of the room.

            “Soundproof?” Oliver asks. She nods and rises up on her toes to kiss him. He smiles and kicks the door shut. “We’ll see about that,” Oliver whispers against her lips.

 


End file.
